Blood Games
by Within The Lines
Summary: Cain hates failure but he loves games. Isaak hates both, but unfortunately for him once he fails a mission Cain decides to introduce him to a new set of games, ones that Isaak will find terrifyingly and excruciatingly painful. C x I
1. Chapter 1

_Trinity Blood_

_Title: Blood Games_

_Chapters: _

_Denkiteki Kaori Oni_

_Disclaimer: I do not own TB_

_Pairing: Cain x Isaak_

_Rating M: Cruelty / Torture, Language, Blood, Violence and Gore, Disturbing scenes, Possible Rape_

_A/N: No flames please! I really do love these characters, Isaak especially so do not mistake this fic for bashing or anything of the sort. It was quite painful and difficult to write. I assure you._

_-sniff- I will never be the same . . .

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_ **~Story Start ~ ::Avert Not Thine Eyes:: **_

** 1**

"Take your hands off of me you filthy bastards!"

The double doors of the Contra Mundi's room flew open violently. The sounds of struggling and shuffling feet came next. A comical scene, yet horrifying at the same time - two Methuselan guards stepped in and held in there hands chains attached to cold, metal shackles that clung tightly to pale flesh belonging to the one and only Isaak Fernand von Kämpfer, who was kicking at invisible dust as he was carelessly dragged about the tile floor. However, the scene was unsightly.

Von Kämpfer had blood trickling from his forehead and temple, of which leaked a trail down his face, gliding smoothly over the eye and dripping off the chin. His fangs were bared in a menacing scowl aimed at whoever dared to look him in the face or stare into his eyes. He was practically on the floor, dust and dirt sullying his black Orden uniform, and both his arms hovered above his head limply, the hold the guards have on him being the only thing to support his crooked posture.

The atmosphere of the room grew ominous, temperatures dropping to a negative, below zero degrees C - the temperature of fear, regret, and the absence of mercy. The three of them felt it. After all, it was hard to miss, the electric jolt that sends a shock to your brain incomparably worse than brain freeze. It was the message of crucial danger, instinct telling you to flee, to escape the jaws of death. Neither dared to move.

Footsteps echoed in the room, the footsteps themselves coming from somewhere in the back of the room where the lights didn't reach, couldn't reach. There it was pitch black.

The darkness cut the room in half, leaving one side perceptible to the senses and the other elevating them in alarm. Something hid within and whatever it was it held tremendous power. A dark and evil power.

Kämpfer narrowed his slanted eyes, squinting them to see, his keen Methuselan vision obscured by the damages done to his head. Because of this it lowered his perception to that of a Terran's. Instead of going beyond the darkness, seeing into it, it stopped at the border where the light refused to go any further. He growled lightly in frustration, something he didn't bother to hide. It was evident enough already.

However, when he noticed the two guards shaking out of the corner of his eye he decided that he was quite grateful that his vision was obscured, especially after what comes next.

"Isaak, don't be so angry," said an all too familiar voice. Isaak's blood ran cold, or rather colder if possible.

Slowly, one brown shoe appeared from the shadows, then the other. Then, the entire figure exited the darkness and stepped into the light. Kämpfer ceased the squinting of his eyes and did the opposite, widening them in utter terror.

Blond hair swayed back and forth, just barely touching the shoulder blades. On the shoulder blades sat humongous golden plates of armor. One would think that you'd sink to the ground or tip over due to the weight, but to this man balance was as easy to sustain as breathing. Then there was that unusual naiveté that swirled in the midst of those sapphire eyes, something that usually threw people off. The people that already knew him knew better than that. Knew that it was merely the calm before the storm.

"L-Lord Cain . . ." Isaak whispered with a stutter. He glanced nervously at the two guards holding him, seeing the conspicuous fear in their eyes. Out of his own anxiety he bowed his head so that his long black tresses curtained his face and tightly closed his eyes, _praying_.

Cain's lips curved upward in a sly smile as he tilted his head at his second in command's behavior. He looked a the two guards and they began to tremble visibly. With a nod of his head they released the chains they held in their white gloved hands and ran out of the room with whimpers of fear.

Isaak's eyes popped open the moment the chains had hit the floor. He shook now. Beads of sweat formed on his face, mixing with his blood and dripping down his cheeks and rolling off his chin. For the moment he wished that the guards hadn't left, that they had stayed so that he would be leaving out again, be it to a dungeon or kicked out of the Rosenkreuz Orden. He didn't care which. Just . . .anything but this.

"Come now Isaak. Why so afraid, hm?" Cain's voice was so taunting, the sweetness so feigned. Isaak knew better.

The tank magician stayed silent. His trembling did not cease. He could feel every fiber of his being, of his character, crumbling, falling apart. This wasn't like him. He was supposed to be the great Panzer Magier, intelligent, creative, powerful, feared. Now that someone higher up on the charts stood before him, towering over him as if he were but an insect he felt his prestige being crushed to useless sparks. And as he finally lifted his head to daringly stare into Contra Mundi's eyes he could see the ridiculing amusement dancing in them.

The darkness behind Cain ridiculed him even, beckoning him to come into its welcoming arms and hide. The locked doors behind him mocked him as well. Now he could hear their 'voices'. They were toying with him.

"Come and play Isaak! Open my doors! You are competent enough to do that aren't you?" The doors taunted.

Here! Hide over here!" The darkness teased.

"Cover your face you useless fool!"

"How dare you bare your presence to the great Lord Contra Mundi!"

"Perish!"

"Vanish!"

"Your life is already fleeting from being here!"

A whimper escaped his lips. He bowed his head and closed his eyes again. Should he really assume that someone hears him when he prays? Should he jump to the conclusion that maybe he'll be let off with a slap on the wrist and he'll be free to go? Should he really believe that he'll leave this room alive? That anyone will see him walk about again? That he'll see the light of day tomorrow? Should he really?

"Isaak, you did not answer my question and I am still waiting." All traces of "sweetness" was gone. He was impatient now. Strike one.

One thing Isaak was sure he could be certain of is that Cain is no Abel. He has no mercy and already he was beginning to mess up. He struck the first nerve and he mentally berated himself that he shouldn't do it again. However, it is a lot harder than it sounds.

Cain is like a king. Either you give him what he wants or he cuts off your head. If you're a personal favorite he makes sure you die nice and slow. That was his nature – sadistic, cruel, just plain heartless. However, his nature isn't entirely that simple or predictable. On the contrary, it is much more complex than that – the cruelty of a king, the mind of a professional and yet of a novice, but his heart is as cold as the iceberg that sunk the titanic and as black as the brimstone of Satan's lair. Then the next moment he contradicted everything he stood for, pure hypocrisy.

He was indeed an angel of darkness.

Isaak took a deep breath before answering. "I-I am afraid of you Mein Herr . . .because I know that my life is in your hands," he answered honestly. He kept his gaze on the black tile floor.

"Is that so?" That artful innocence returned to his voice. Cain walked around him. "Hrm, true." He stopped behind Isaak and whispered in his ear. "Which brings to light the reason for your being here."

Isaak froze.

"The last assignment I gave you was to lead an attack on the city of Londinium in Albion. It seems that you have failed that mission entirely and not only that," his voice lowered, "you cost me the Orden airship." Strike two.

Kämpfer's breath hitched in his throat. Failing that mission was the worst mistake he could have ever made in the 900 years of his life. He should have died in the explosion, but somehow he survived. Now that he thought about it, dying in the blast would have been a far less worse punishment than what Contra Mundi has in store for him, whatever that may be.

"Forgive me my lord. I was certain I had everything under control," Kämpfer replied anxiously.

"You were certain you had everything under control," Cain mimicked mockingly. "Tell me Isaak, how did you receive that head injury?" He asked suddenly curious.

_What? He's interested in my wounds? _Isaak thought skeptically. It was unusual that _the _Contra Mundi would be concerned about his servants' injuries, much less interested. The Panzer Magier was baffled, but he had no choice but to answer. "I was seen leaving the damaged ship. One of the Orden's guards tracked me down and beat me with a baton . . . before arresting me and dragging me here," he answered apprehensively.

"Ah, I see." Cain's tone took a change for the worst. "So you tried to flee," he stated matter-of-factly. Strike three.

"No! I would never!" Isaak panicked, his voice laced with plead.

"And now you're lying." Amusement danced in the dark lord's eyes as he sung out his accusation. "So pathetic." A shrewd smirk played on his features."I hope that you are aware that your failure will surely cost you more than you'll miss."

"Please! Mein Herr!" Kämpfer pleaded again. Consternation crawled into the pit of his stomach. He felt like vomiting.

"Oh please, shut up von Kämpfer you worthless little insect. Sorry is all I ever hear from you. I grow weary of your pointless, meaningless apologies. I do not forgive you and I do not plan to. I cannot tolerate you anymore. As a matter of fact," Cain crossed the distance and grabbed the Methuselah by the collar, "I cannot stand you," he hissed venomously.

The Methuselah's eyes widened considerably. At least he didn't have to be kept in suspense over whether or not he'll die because without a doubt the answer was definitely clear.

A bead of sweat made its way down his face, taking a thin line of blood with it. Isaak's heart pounded fiercely in his chest as his dark brown eyes reflected his master raising his hand before it connected with his cheek and sent him flying across the room and into the double doors, his back slamming into the fine wood and releasing a terrible cracking sound. He yelped and winced in pain. His hands clenched at his sides.

The Crusnik made his way back into the depths of the darkness. A light came on in the pitch blackness from a fieldstone fireplace facing a mahogany cushion chair with brass casters.

"I see you enjoy playing games Isaak, mostly with your own pathetic little life." He sat in the chair and propped his feet up on a red velvet footstool and sighed. A ghost of a smile reached his lips as he flipped a blond strand of hair out of his face and turned to look at the injured vampire. "Do you like games Isaak? Hm, I love games." He turned back to the fireplace and closed his eyes as the sound of violins filled the room.

The Methuselah's mind screamed at him to move, to get up and out of harm's way, but he couldn't. He briefly wondered if sitting deathly still for the sake of his fractured spine was worth the more extreme beatings to come. But of course that was a very unintelligible thought considering his predicament.

Perhaps Cain was right. Perhaps he didn't take life as seriously as he should and right now it was short-lived despite his being a Methuselah and having lived over 900 years up until now. He cursed himself.

"You should know that whenever I ask a question I expect an answer, magician," Cain said darkly. He glared at the Panzer Magier and his claws came out scratching the arms of the chair.

"W-Well, I like certain games," he replied cautiously from his position by the doors.

He certainly didn't want to risk another fractured limb. He had to choose his words carefully from now on. His fingers twitched. Never in his life has he ever been so stressed out like he was now. He tried to move and found it painful. A cigarillo sounded good right about now.

"Certain games huh? Hm . . .I like ones that include violence, blood, and gore . . .cat and mouse," Cain mused as if lost to reality. Isaak shuddered as he realized that the Crusnik was reveling in a slaughterhouse fantasy.

As silently as he could he cast a spell on himself to heal himself. He was too afraid to let the spell go on for too long for fear of Cain seeing the vibrating waves of the light blue glow surrounding him. He began to stand.

The Crusnik still faced the fireplace. The orange glow blanketed his form making him look like a celestial being out of Greek Mythology legends. Isaak pondered whether or not he should slowly turn the knob or just bolt out the door. The latter of the two was very tempting. Besides, wouldn't Cain hear the knob turning no matter how quietly he tried to turn it?

He chose.

Cain growled low in his throat as the Methuselah bolted out the door. His footsteps echoed out in the hall. Ceasing his growling, Cain replaced it with a purr instead. _Another game? So be it. _In a flash the Crusnik had disappeared from his spot in the chair. The only clue that he had left was the door slamming shut from the force of a terrible wind.

The violins' sweet song turned into a fast, haunting symphony, a tune of death – Armageddon. It seemingly echoed through the Rosenkreuz Orden castle ringing in von Kämpfer's sensitive ears.

He sprinted down the long hall, the red carpet softening his footsteps, but they could still be heard. Everything was beginning to look blurry, consequential of that blasted head wound. He shook his head but it was futile. Dizziness engulfed him and he began to stumble. If the sounds of his clumsiness and the scent of his blood wasn't enough to attract the Crusnik then he didn't know what would.

He could only hope for survival.

Then a thought hit him. _The second floor!_ It has a chute that leads to the outside. He ran out into a vast room filled with antiques and paintings. Everywhere he looked there were decorations and luxuries – from large golden framed paintings to grand pianos, and expensive uniquely made vases. Up ahead he noticed the gate of a residential elevator.

_No, taking the elevator would take up too much time. I'll be dead before I can get the gate open. _He had to think quickly. He darted to the left and went through a door that leads through a small hallway to a set of backstairs. He ran down them as fast as he could.

Part way down the stairs, on the third floor, he spotted another door leading back into a larger hallway. He ran quickly but quietly towards the other side of the castle. _There! _He grabbed a large painting of a man playing a trumpet off the wall and carefully set it down on the floor. Behind it was a hidden exit chute. It landed him in the west garden and running as fast as he could he headed for the main gate.

Once he got past that gate he would be home free. He knew a list of places he could go, but first he needed a ride. However, that was the least of his worries. The Methuselah just hoped that Cain had lost track of him or else he would be in even more trouble than he was already in, if that was possible.

Cain stared out of the stain-glass window on the third floor of the Rosenkreuz Orden castle building. He watched with cold, crimson, narrowed eyes as Isaak made it out of the castle grounds. Slowly a cruel smirk made its way onto his lips. _So you like blood games do you? _He clenched his clawed hand into a fist at his side, squeezing so hard that blood dripped from his tightly closed palm.

_So be it then . . ._He whispered dangerously.

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_A/N: So how did you like it? I don't know whether or not I should continue this. I can't help but feel as if it wasn't all that good. I tried rewriting it several times. Oh well. Tell me how I did, ne? So review please!_


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Chapter 2 of Blood Games. I know, I know. It's been forever since I've updated this thing. For those of you who have been waiting patiently and in utter suspense (sorry) here it is. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Trinity Blood or its characters. **

***Note: Guderian acts as not only Isaak's bodyguard, but his chauffeur as well. **

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**~Story Start~ ::Avert Not Thine Eyes::**

**2**

He spotted it, the black limo that Guderian was supposed to pick him up in. The light from the street lamp adjacent to it made the vehicle glow with an orange hue. It was dark out and that only made escaping more dangerous.

Isaak swung open the back door and hopped inside. This started the wolf, who sat up front in the driver's seat. He looked at the Methuselah through the front mirror.

"You should have contacted me to let me know you were close. I would have had the door open for you, Master Isaak," Guderian spoke formally.

"No time. Step on it!" Isaak shouted while vigilantly staring out the back window for any sign of a certain convoluted Crusnik.

"As you wish." Guderian acquiesced and floored the pedal, speeding from the curb in the back of the Rosenkréuz Castle.

When Isaak realized that they weren't being followed after a half hour he finally relaxed. He ran a clawed hand through his now untidy hair out of stress and sighed. He knew that this moment of peace was only temporary. It was best to revel in it while it still lasts.

Remembering Guderian he said, "I'm sorry to have dragged you into such a catastrophe. I can only hope you aren't punished for it." He stared out of the closed window, at the other passing cars zipping through the night.

Guderian glanced at Isaak's reflection in the rearview mirror for a brief second. "Master Isaak, I am afraid I do not understand. You never really told me anything."

"I couldn't really tell you the first time. Forgive me for that too." His fingers twitched. He narrowed his eyes as he suddenly craved a cigar.

"A cigarillo, Master?" The lycanthrope suggested suavely.

Isaak smiled. His faithful bodyguard always seemed to know exactly what he needed. How he knew he didn't quite know, but he was just glad that he understood and knew just what to do. He loved that about the wolf.

"Yes, Guderian. Grape flavor if you don't mind," he spoke softly.

"Of course." The werewolf pressed a little silver button next to the steering wheel, opening a little black compartment next to Isaak's seat. Inside were 10 cigarillos all neatly aligned next to each other in a row.

He smiled even wider and took one from its place in the hatch. He put the cig between his lips and lit it and instantly a pleasant grape scent filled the car. He had been dying to have one ever since Cain threw him into the double doors of his chamber.

He shuddered again. Just the thought of death by Cain's hands made fear crawl into his belly again. Focusing on his cigar was supposed to be his top priority right now. So far he was focusing on everything but its goodness. He tried again.

"May I suggest some soft music to go with your cigar?" Guderian spoke up again.

On any other day the Methuselah might have took him up on that offer, but the chill strumming of the violins back at the castle still rung fresh in his mind. Strange how everything that happened tonight seemed to change his preferences altogether.

"No thank you. Not tonight."

The lycanthrope stared at him through the rearview mirror again. Usually he wouldn't admit it, but he was concerned about his master. Always is. Although every Rosenkréuz member legally works under Cain's superior authority Guderian thoroughly believed that Isaak was his rightful master. In no way does he ever serve Cain and Cain himself never called him about to do any bidding. Therefore, he belonged to Isaak.

He didn't like Cain. He didn't like the way he treated his master either. Thus, the cause for his concern. Guderian wasn't stupid. He knew that for every mission that ended in failure, despite whether or not it was Isaak's fault, that the injuries he always returned with weren't always from the mission itself.

After all . . . being that he is the great Panzer Magier it isn't easy to make a scratch on him. He rarely gets scratched in battle, if at all.

"Master . . . what happened, may I ask?" If he didn't ask then Isaak would probably never tell. He took initiative.

"_Must _you ask? And it's not important anyways," he murmured upsettingly.

"Of course it is. I must learn the reason for my master's disturbance." Though Guderian already had a hint of what occurred.

" . . ." The Methuselah wanted to avoid the subject as much as possible. It was bad enough that it already had him scared out of his wits.

The limo was engulfed in a still quietness.

The car began to slow down – Guderian's way of getting Isaak to talk. The vampire absolutely hated that. Fear crawled into his belly again and a cold front hit him. His heart began to pound wildly in his chest.

"Guderian . . ." Isaak said insecurely.

The wolf said nothing and continued to slow the car down. Other cars drove around them, beeping their horns at them in annoyance. A sudden _whoosh _reverberated though the entire car.

"Guderian!" Isaak shouted, dropping his cigar and ripping a hole through the seat as he tightly grasped it with his now extended claws.

"Calm down. It is only the a/c. I turned it on." The wolf furrowed his brows in deep concern. The car had stopped completely in the middle of the street.

"It'll only be a matter of time . . ." the wolf said eerily. Perhaps he was taking it too far? Though, he was not taking any pleasure in the tormenting in the least.

_A matter of time? Time, time . . .for what!? _"Guderian stop this madness now! I order you," Isaak chided lividly.

"You are not yourself. This isn't the Master Isaak I know. Look at you. You're trembling like a frightened animal and you have no composure. I only wish for you to calm down. Then, I will move the car," Guderian explained calmly.

Isaak sighed and let the air of the a/c wash over him. He loosened his tie and threw it carelessly. The cool air calmed him down and soothed him. It annoyed him that the wolf knew him so well.

"Alright," he surrendered. "Okay then. I'll explain."

"Good." Guderian started the car back up and moved along. He hated getting him to talk this way, using force even if it wasn't physical.

The Methuselah cursed silently and picked up his dropped cigar. Fortunately it was still lit. He took a long drag before speaking. "I failed an important mission and destroyed the Orden Airship. Now Cain wants my head on a silver platter."

"Oh no . . . not Cain. What happened on the mission? That is, before you contacted me?" he asked curiously.

Isaak nearly smirked at the amount of concern laced in the wolf's voice and he would have too had he not been so unnerved at the moment.

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+ + Trinity + + Blood + +

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_**Flashback**_

_The night air was deathly chill, but not really. In fact, it was warm with a gentle cool breeze blowing by every now and then. However, if you were assigned the task to attack the city of Londinium in Albion while piloting the Orden's Airship, but fail miserably and get shot down and, in addition to that, blow up the airship, then the night would indeed seem deathly chill. _

_Black smoke, thick and heavy, rose into the air hanging there and polluting it like a dark thundercloud. On a wide street, between two cars, sat the Orden Airship damaged beyond repair and flames licking at its fallen parts. Pieces fell off and hit the ground with a mechanical clank. Inside there was the metallic noise of parts hitting what was left of the floor. _

_Suddenly, the glass window in the front of the ship shattered. A book – the object responsible for the shattered glass – went tumbling down the sidewalk till it hit a lamp post. The title read: Shadow Poetry. Glass crunched under shiny, polished black shoes that took shaky and clumsy steps from out of the overturned aircraft. (I know what you're thinking. How are they still shiny? I don't know.) _

_Isaak took a few steps back from the ruined ship to get a good look at the damages that have been done. There was a sudden explosion from the very top, a metal part blowing off and missing the Methuselah's head by a few inches. He slowly looked back at the hunk of metal. It seemed to keep rolling down the street endlessly. He turned back to the problem at hand. _

"_Shit . . ." he cursed in a low whisper. He had to get away from the scene of the crime and quick. So, he began to jog, stumbling everywhere as he did. His right leg was badly hurt and he was sore all over. _

_He stopped for a few minutes, took out a cigarillo from his smooth black case and lit it. Just as he exhaled its contents the ship went up in a huge explosion with flames shooting everywhere. He spun around, staring at it with wide, horrified eyes. _

_'Mein Herr is going to kill me!' He used the last of his strength to get as far away from the scene as possible and, pulling out a cell phone, he dialed Guderian's number. _

"_Yes, Guderian? I'm at the city of Londinium, in Albion." He instructed the wolf to pick him up immediately at his current location and gave him the street name and address. _

"_I'm on my way, Meine Herr," Guderian responded from the other line. Isaak snapped his cell phone shut. _

"_Von Kämpfer!" a voice cut through the air. _

_Isaak stopped dead in his tracks and turned around. Two Methuselan officers were coming towards him. He identified the badges they wore as proof of official membership to the Rosenkréuz Orden. The Orden's insignia was engraved on them. He ran. _

"_Stop Kämpfer! Stop I said!" One of the officers shouted as he chased Isaak down the street. "In the name of Herr Contra Mundi I command you stop you miserable cur!"_

_Isaak picked up the pace and ran with inhuman speed. He had to lose them or else he'd be in for a world of trouble. He leaped onto the top of a building and continued to hop from structure to structure from there. _

_Wherever he went they went. He cursed silently. _

_He came upon a loading dock. Lamp posts aligned that area but the waters were left in the darkness. A large cargo ship was making its way towards the dock, but he couldn't board it. He had to wait for Guderian. He needed to return to the address that he gave him. So, he jumped into the pitch black water below and held his breath in hopes of losing them. With the darkness of the water and with his scent vanishing out of thin air he **should **lose them. _

"_Where is he? I know he was just here! I saw him come this way!" One of the Methuselan officers shouted angrily._

"_Calm down Kurt. He couldn't have gotten far. His scent still lingers," said the other vampire officer._

"_Don't say my name out loud!"_

_They began to argue. _

_Isaak managed to stay underwater for 15 minutes with the help of his magic before he came up for air. He pulled himself out of the water, the force weighing him down. He looked himself over. He was soaking wet and dripping all over the place. The water would surely leave a trail. _

_Looking around he noticed that not a Methuselan nor a Terran soul was in sight. So, he decided to make his way back to the designated spot while staying in the shadows. _

_He made it back. He could spot the limo down the street as it was just turning a corner. _

"_Tsk, tsk, tsk." _

_Isaak spun around and came face to face with the commander in chief of Cain's little investigative force, Officer Vincent – a platinum-haired fellow with odd amber, slitted eyes. _

"_Unless you want your faithful bodyguard to die you will come with me now," Vincent said smugly. _

_Before Isaak could speak he was bashed in the head from behind with a baton. Everything faded to black. _

_**End Flashback**_

Guderian unconsciously tightened his grip on the steering wheel as Isaak finished telling the story, including up to the part where he managed to escape from Cain. He was glad that the Methuselah couldn't see him right now. He didn't want to be interrogated or teased for his _questionable _behavior.

But he knew it. He knew that his eyes weren't betraying him when he saw Isaak earlier tonight. As soon as Isaak had fallen to the ground he had lost control and transformed right then and there. While the two officers had managed to drag his master away he was left with Commander Vincent. He still remembered his words.

"_Your little master will become Lord Cain's new chew toy and when he's finally begging for mercy and on his last leg we'll make sure you'll be there to watch him take his last breath. Hahaha!" _

He tore the son-of-a-bitch apart. He didn't quite understand why he felt this way and why it bothered him so much to see Isaak hurt.

For must bodyguards protecting your client is but a mere job, a duty. You don't really care for them but you make them your obligation because they're the one paying you. For Guderian, however, protecting Isaak was not just a job. His obligation was more personal than that. His master's safety was his top priority. That brought to mind another thought.

"Does it still hurt?" he asked. He slowed the car down as he arrived at an electronic gate and reached out the window to put in the code for the gate operator. It opened.

Isaak paused in mid-drag and blew the smoke. "Does what still hurt?" _My injuries or my pride . . ._ he thought absentmindedly.

The car smoothly rode up a small hill and along a curvy path. The grass on the sides was neatly cut and lush all around. Isaak could see a mansion yawning ahead. It was large in structure with triangular rooftops and more than a couple chimneys on top. There were more windows than anything else.

"Both," Guderian replied quietly.

The car was silent for a moment as it drew closer to the house. The inside was lit.

Isaak narrowed his eyes and tapped his cigar against the ashtray. "You wouldn't happen to have read my mind now did you . . .Reibzahn?" he asked dangerously low.

The wolf smirked and shook his head forgetting that Isaak couldn't see. "No Herr." The road opened into a round circular path with grass in the middle and Guderian drove around and parked right in front of the door. "I just happen to have a sixth sense about things. My intuition is sharper than one might think."

Kämpfer sighed and put out his cigarillo in the ashtray. Guderian took the keys out of the ignition and got out to open the door for the vampire. As Isaak got out he looked at the wolf and said, "Then yes. Both."

He followed the wolf up the stairway to the doorstep. Trees, bushels, and shrubs of all colors surrounded the mansion. One could've swore that every flower of the genus family existed right in this vicinity. Once Guderian had the door open Isaak stepped inside the foyer and was greeted by a luxurious sight, much like the castle – Diamond chandeliers on the ceiling, a red Kashan Persian rug, expensive oil paintings, abstract sculptures, and a double grand staircase that met at the very top.

For the first time all day Isaak finally felt as if he could breathe easy.

Guderian smiled and turned to him. "Welcome home, Master Isaak."

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**A/N: Personally, I think this chapter was pretty pathetic. Sigh. If you guys thought so too then let me know. I really wanted to revise it. Well, don't worry. Chapter 3 will be MUCH better. I promise. **


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